I have to tell you, I'm pretty tired right now. I have work in slightly less than 12 hours, and I'll be back on those nice shifts that are longer than 4 hours and give a lunchbreak and some chance that I'll forget what I am outside of that shiny red vest. Furnace filters are back in Plumbing, as far away from Tool World as they could possibly be. Let me walk you back there. And since you're trying to save money on energy costs, why don't you pick up this nice insulation blanket for your water heater? Y'know, it gets cold out in that garage of yours and all the water heaters I've met are pretty lonely and I just know yours could use some company. Someone could probably make a lot of money running a water heater escort service. Even mundane things need a little company now and then. Not me, though. I've got this fan that (thankfully, less the ringing in my ears returns) won't shut up, the printer complaining that it's going to be out of ink in three cleaning cycles, and my phone crying because I haven't plugged it in in days (S-D hasn't been giving me much reason to use it lately). There's also the green glow of the alarm clock that keeps telling me it's way too god damned late to be awake. I know that when I finally do fall asleep, it'll just get pissed and scream at me so it can say it's way too god damned early to be awake. It just contradicts the cool blue glow of my stereo, who's null display (--:--) repeatedly tells me that it's no time at all. At times like that, Mr. Stereo and I get to be good friends. The shadows from the cars passing on Ward Avenue like to dance across my ceiling, drawing attention to that one green protective dot on the smoke detector. Although it's not as advanced as it's brethren, it's the only thing in here that has something meaningful to say: It's ok. Things are safe. You can sleep now. I just stare at that dot for hours. I do it laying in my big, empty queen-sized bed. These insulating blankets provide enough protection to keep me warm, but they don't prevent me from feeling that big empty spot on the other half of the mattress. Sometimes, when it gets really bad, I crumple one of the blankets up in the shape of a small human, about 5'5" and 95 lbs (my blanket is anorexic, my dream girl is not) and hold it as if I'm comforting a lover who's feeling the same emptiness I'm feeling. I imagine she's crying, and my fingers massage her scalp and tell her everything will be ok. When I wake up in the morning and the corner of my blanket is wet with tears, I get only slightly concerned. At least when the water heater gets a broken heart, everyone in the house rushes to fix it.